The Long Walk Home
by NocheKrovoche
Summary: Sasuke muses as he walks towards an unknown destination. Implied SasuNaru. Just drabble.


**The Long Walk Home**

**By: NocheKrovoche**

_I do not own any of the characters here, so there._

The dusty path dirties his feet through the sandals he wore as he walked aimlessly. His worn eyes looked straight ahead, not really seeing as he relied mostly on his other senses for warning.

_His eyes were the ones that put him into this predicament anyway._

He was always confident of himself, always so sure, but now, with the way things had turned out, he wondered if he had really been that certain.

There were no words for what he felt. He wish he could explain it, though, to make at least one person understand-to make _him_ understand what he feels.

The feeling of so much happiness that it hurts. So much emotions that it threatens to rip him apart and leave him bleeding on the ground. Feelings so overwhelming that he wished he could be rid of, and yet he clung to it as if they were the very essence of his existence.

With every step he takes, the more he thought of how futile everything in his life is. He couldn't place anything back together anymore and he wondered when it had all became complicated.

It had all been so fast and spontaneous and now, he feels lost. The ground beneath him felt unfamiliar, the wind that howls past frightens him, and the stinging sun above seems so strange to him.

The thorny plants beneath him pricked and made him bleed but he doesn't have enough energy to stop right now.

He swallows it all. He just doesn't care anymore. The pain he feels in his chest far outweighs the feeling of the stinging wounds caused by the shrubs.

But the thought of a home was nice; a comforting notion of a place to rest yourself at when you're tired, a small piece of the world just for you when the rest of it all gets on your nerves, or just somewhere you can come back to and be consoled by the people you love.

_Love._

He hadn't really paid so much mind to it, but now, he supposed that he misses that little feeling. He missed the reassurance it gives, the feeling that there is someone worried about you, someone who is there for you _always and forever._

Would it really be so bad to think that _he _is still waiting for him there?

Would it really be unfair of him to ask of him back?

Would it really be selfish of him to think that he loves _him_?

He hoped not, because that was all he could think of at the moment,...

His heart felt tight and pained. It hurts so much right now and he wondered if it will ever go away. It's kind of like getting sick and feeling like it will always be there, and then it goes away and you feel so relieved. But you will always remember those few moments where you were willing to give anything to have that scorching pain rid of at the very moment because it felt too much for you to handle. Your body wanted release but there is no other way but to wait it out. It feels like so much more than a few mere days and the minutes seem to stretch longer than they intend to be.

Feeling so much hope and yet hopeless to what seemed an endless struggle.

But then, it stops.

You wake in the morning to find yourself feeling happy and close to tears because the pain is gone. The promise of tomorrow had finally shown its rays on you again and you reach out with outstretched arms to greet it wholeheartedly.

And it's all over.

The cicadas had long lost their noise, clinging to the leaves and trees. The echoing silence expanded along with the growing darkness as night sets in.

But there was something wrong. Or better yet, there seemed to be something so incredibly right that it's almost impossible.

He looked up, realizing that he had finally stopped walking, his eyes focusing and unfocusing to what looked like a mirage in the blazing desert, before widening when he saw where his tired feet had lead him. The sun casting its last rays of light to the building he knew all too well.

It was only then that he understood it.

No matter where he goes, no matter what happens, he'll always return here. The only place that no one would come near to except for _him_. It was always _him_. _He_ will be there, waiting for him with open arms, and he will finally let himself fall into _his_ warm embrace.

And he knew for the first time that this is home, right here. It always has been.

--

A/N: My weirdness kicking in...again, and my grammar dying painfully...again...

...One too many bottles of beer...


End file.
